Ok, two blog posts in such rapid succession after such a long drought. Must have been something good going on. Haha! Well, not really. I just finished reading “Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt” by Anne Rice. It was boring at first but I got sucked in during the later few chapters. I was really sceptical when I started reading this book because I thought it was going to be all religious-y, cos I know Anne Rice went back to the Catholic Church in the last few years after having been not so religious. I was afraid I was going to be reading just another religious book that’s just the “hallelujah! praise the lord!” writings of some born-again Christian. I mean, I enjoy Anne Rice’s books, I really do. But I’m not forgetting her “Feast of All Saints” that I got so bored with that I didn’t finish reading. Thought this would be one. Was tempted to just stop reading half way. But she’s scored more hits than misses when I read her books.

Before I go into too long a ramble, I actually found the book quite a good read. Like I said, got draggy in the middle but the ending was such a powerful one that I was blown away. I read that last sentence, flipped the page and was like, ‘what? That’s the end??”

For those who don’t know, this is (I think) the first of her “Christ the Lord” series and this book deals with the childhood of Jesus. It told the story of when he was living with his family in Egypt and their return to Nazareth, ending with the story of how Jesus was found in the temple talking to the Elders and the ‘realisation’ of his mission. I don’t know if that last one (about the elders) is in the bible but I’ve certainly read it/heard of it somewhere before. I liked that the book opened with a classic legend of Jesus’ childhood. Well, more than one legend – the legend of how he accidentally killed his friend and brought him back to life, and the story of how he brought clay sparrows to life. A while back I had this urge to go look up those ‘banned books’ from the bible cos I was curious about the childhood of Jesus. It’s certainly something which could teach us so much but is conspicuously missing from the bible.

I like that this story did not immediately cast Jesus as son of God. In fact, Anne Rice writes Jesus as thinking of himself as nothing more than an ordinary little boy, wondering why his parents are so mysterious about his birth and the appearance of angels, why the rabbis asked him so many questions, why he doesn’t call Joseph ‘father’. He doesn’t understand about the violence he sees in the world around him, particularly in the reign of Herod and the Roman occupations. He seems to realise that he’s got some kind of power and things just happen around him, like how he healed his uncle’s illness, but he has no clue how or why it happened. We see Jesus as a child struggling with his relationship with the world. We see him being happy and scared and just being a little boy. One of the most powerful scenes I think is when he finds out about the slaughter of the children at the time of his birth. He felt so guilty when he realised that it was because of him that the killing happened. He is terrified when he witnessed a riot in the temple.

I liked the ending scene epiphany Jesus has. He’s trying, throughout the entire book, to find a miracle. He wants to see angels in particular. But then, after all the things he’s seen going into Jerusalem with his parents and seeing the riots, and the bustle and cruelty of human life, he realises that the point of this life is to die. It’s not to see angels and work miracles or whatever. The point is to live, learn and experience and then die. That’s the answer to everything. By the way, keep in mind that in this story, he’s only seven years old. This book is like a journey for Jesus and the reader, in which tries to discover what is the point of him being here on earth. It is a journey of realisation and of growing and maturing that we are taken on, ending with that absolutely fabulous last line: “Father, I am your child.”

Anyway, it just got me thinking. You know I’m not all that religious. I’m pulling away from the church more and more because I always think that organised religion is just a tool to comfort people and blind them into accepting their lot in life. Like, what’s the solution to life, the universe and everything? Prayer. *rolls eyes* what the hell. Anyway, even though I may not completely subscribe to this stuff, I think that given the story I’m currently writing and reading this book, I’m wishing sometimes that I could be sure that there is something larger out there. Some god or whatever. Thing is, I want to be sure and not just taking it on faith. How far can faith take me? Walking on water, moving mountains? Since when? Who in documented history has actually done that? I’d rather appreciate religion for its culture, it’s texts and poetry and songs. I can definitely see how some people might derive comfort from the recitation of these set formulas that we call prayers. There are quite a few quotations from the psalms and biblical songs in this book that I found were very beautiful, taken as prayers.

And I’ve lost my train of thought yet again. That’s a bit of a problem with me. I have an idea of what I want to write but I sometimes lose myself in the process, like I just did above. Or maybe I’m feeling a bit too defensive cos religion is a prickly subject with me. I don’t like to discuss it because I feel kind of anti-it during these past few years. Anyway, I think this book is a great book, definitely different from the usual Anne Rice materials. I’ll be getting the next in the series to read when I can and I think I would recommend it. Yup. Try saying all that in a tweet. Haha!

Moving on to some other news. Did another combined choir event last night. This time the event was Fr Khoo’s 40th sacerdotal anniversary and 69th birthday. And because we thought the archbishop was coming. Anyway, it was a good mass. George Mok took charge and Helen was the organist. It was interesting to watch someone else in action for a change. Helen has an odd way of playing the organ. I might want to try her pedal style one day. Sang some of the cool soprano parts, loved the Great Amen. That lady next to me (Clement’s wife?) was super. Her voice was quite operatic but for a strange reason, it only came out at the highest notes. But it was really a change to not have to blast and just have fun while singing. And Khoo seemed happy that we were all there. He mentioned it during the announcements.

Been writing, as I have said many times. I love my story. I really do. I think it’s one of the best things I’ve written so far. Not for publication because it’s an unauthorised fanfiction. Sort of. So I don’t really say I’m writing a book. But I was reading it through yesterday from the beginning and, call me narcissistic, I was blown away by it. Of course, that may be author bias on my part. Maybe once someone else reads it they’ll think it’s utter crap. Hehe! First time I’m writing in the first person. I’ve always been a bit nervous about writing in first person cos I don’t like to get so sucked up in it. I’m already sucked in so much when I write in third person. So I hope it works out if I ever post it up anywhere. Still working on it. Bit annoying that inspiration usually strikes me at 11pm at night. Then I’ll be furiously typing when my mum comes in and yells at me about staying up so late. And, by the way, explain to me why parents in general always say, don’t compare with others, and then go on to do the same thing themselves. Like, I stay up late at night doing whatever it is I’m doing. She swans in and says so-and-so and lots of other people don’t stay up late doing nonsense on the internet. Then I say actually I know lots of  people who do. And then she says, you don’t need to follow the crowd. I really don’t get the logic in that argument. It’s just as weird as the: don’t tell other people what results you got. and then immediately asking: What did the rest of them get? Incredible. The world is very strange.

Talking about that, I’ve been having really strange arguments with my parents lately. One was the other night, we went out for dinner at the coffee shop and were talking about ordering drinks. So I said I wanted to drink milo. And dad says why the heck am I being so childish and ordering that? It’s not a drink you drink at dinner. I was stunned. What the hell is wrong with drinking milo?? It was a cold day after all and I like milo. I don’t drink coffee, didn’t feel like tea. So huge argument about that and I still don’t understand it. Then, another day, mum says, if I’ve already taken my vitamin C supplement thing then I shouldn’t be eating oranges in the same day else it might lead to vitamin C overdose. That so does not make sense. So, out of the very pure intention of finding out why, I asked why. She still stuck to the overdose story. So I said, in that case, since I take the vitamin supplement everyday, then I don’t need to take any other kind of fruits and vegetables any more because those contain vitamin C too and other stuff. Then she’s like, no, just oranges. I don’t even remember the exact words, just the gist. It’s really strange. I don’t get it. Then, my dad didn’t want to go for Khoo’s birthday dinner because they will be serving meat and it’s BAD to eat meat of any kind. And he wanted to go tell our neighbour who was going not to go because they’ll serving MEAT and meat will KILL YOU! (not exaggerating. that’s more or less what the dad said.) No wonder my patience is stretched really really REALLY thin these days. I just say, the bro is damn lucky he’s out of the house for most of the week. I feel like I’m going crazy. Probably what sparked off my huge bitchfest on Twitter some time back. I have a weird family.

Ok, I suppose that’s it. I’d better stop before I get carried away bitching again. The post was supposed to be just the book review, then it mutated and almost got out of hand. Lol! Hope it entertains you though.